


Your bones

by TheOrangeAurora



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), dan and phil
Genre: M/M, Viking AU, Viking Age, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:45:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOrangeAurora/pseuds/TheOrangeAurora
Summary: Summary: In the golden age of Vikings, a raid to the Saxon lands brings a good fortune to the village of Phil’s kin. Along with that, his father brings him a special present: A Thrall, his own slave. A Saxon monastery boy who thought he’d been left by his family when sent to learn the teachings of God, only to find himself in the world of the Norse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first chaptered Phanfiction that I am posting and I hope that you all will enjoy reading it as I do writing it! :) Apologies about any inaccuracies; I am learning more about Vikings as I am writing. Speaking of which, some terminology:
> 
> Thralls: Lowest social class/slaves  
> Karls: Middle social class  
> Jarls: Highest social class

''Father, you're back!'' exclaimed a young boy whose blue eyes lit up even brighter upon the sight of his wind and sea salt roughened father. He quickly ran across the small space of their house, entwining his arms around the considerably taller man's body and smiled even brighter when he was granted an affectionate pat on the head. 

''Trust in Odin and we'll always find one another again,'' his father spoke, then dropped a leather bag full of small, shiny items on the deerskin pile that was yet to be used. The shine drew his attention, but it was soon taken by something else. 

A sound of shuffling and stifled sniff. 

''Father?'' he looked up at the man and noted the smile behind the bearded cheeks before his father stepped aside, pulling at the rope he had not released and making the person on the other end stumble, nearly falling over his own feet. 

Phil could see him; it was a young male, a boy really, looking of similar to his age, yet so much frailer and darker. ''I could not bring you what you asked for, but I thought a Thrall might be a better choice, more useful one,'' and with that, the rope was handed to the young Phil and his fingers wrapped around it without looking down, nor acknowledging his father's words much. He could not look away from the other boy who instead kept his head down, trying to keep the sobs to himself.

''What is your name?'' Phil spoke, loud and clear, addressing the boy, but the other flinched, looking up with red-rimmed eyes, confused and clearly scared. 

Phil had never seen eyes of such dark colour; it was unlike any of the clear skies and blue lakes that he was used to seeing. They were dark, almost like rich soil or the bark of some of the stronger trees carved into longships by the masters. It was like the feathers of the white-tailed eagle.

And they were full of fear.

Phil blinked, regaining his voice from the initial surprise and he looked over to his father who had been watching in silence ''Doesn't he speak? Is he a mute Thrall?'' there was a shift, as if the other boy understood a word, perhaps had heard it enough times to start to recognise it, but it wasn't an answer still. 

''I think he speaks only the tongue of Anglo-Saxons, that's where I brought him from,'' was the answer and the boy perked a little again, recognising a few syllables. ''Their worship temple is a strange place, but this one hasn't yet been tainted by their gods.''

With that explanation, Phil received another pat before his father retreated into the house, presumably to have some ale and rest after the voyage, like he usually would. That left the two boys standing in silence. One stood tall and proud as he was taught and raised. The other looked timid, confused, crouched in his stance and lost to whatever teachings he had gained in his years of walking the Midgard lands.

''Well, come on?'' Phil tugged at the rope finally and walked around the house to where the lake was nearest, sitting on the shore and motioning towards the water. The younger looked from Phil to the lake a few times, before finally sinking to his knees, cupping some of the cool water in his hands and sipping. What was a single sip turned into what felt like a hundred, confirming Phil's suspicion of the boy's, his _slave's_ , condition.

The sipping turned into a coughing fit suddenly, and water spluttered everywhere. Phil just blinked at the other, allowing him to free his throat from the water droplets on his own. There was a small grin on his features as he watched; the other was silly. All dark eyes, and hair, more than Phil's own whose mousey brown was seen fairly dark by the villagers. (He'd gotten it from his mother, who hadn't been local, but arranged in marriage to his father. They were happy, until she'd fallen in one of the raids. Now she dined with Odin and Thor in Valhalla and Phil was proud of her.) 

The curls were curious and Phil reached out to touch them, only for the younger to flinch away. Phil furrowed his brows at that, raised up the end of the rope he held and the younger boy looked down at the water, cheeks tinted from the coughing, but didn't move away anymore. Phil soon found out that the hair was softer than his own too, as if it hadn't experienced everything that the life of salty sea and harsh winters. He kept running fingers through it for a while, feeling the tension of the Thrall under his fingertips at first and then a little less by the time he stopped. 

An idea struck him, and he waved his hand to get the other boy's attention and once received, he pointed a finger at himself ''Phil,'' he slowly pronounced the name; another thing unusual about his upbringing. His mother had chosen a foreign name for him. 

It took a moment, but finally the realisation appeared in the younger's features and he slowly repeated the name, with a lot more ease than many had or still did in his own kin ''Phil.'' Phil nodded to that, then jabbed a finger at the boy, a bit too eager to learn and excited that finally they had found a way to communicate.

''Daniel,'' the boy repeated the action of pointing at himself, though with arms tied around wrists, it almost looked like he was asking for something. Phil just cocked his head a little; Daniel was a name he wasn't familiar with, and the way the boy had said it felt too foreign for his tongue. He pressed his lips together, hummed a little and then grinned brightly and pointed at the Daniel ''Dan!'' The boy looked confused, but soon allowed for a faint smile to appear, for it to disappear soon again as his eyelids began to feel heavier.

He'd relaxed and sleep was taking his mind away from the body. 

A Daniel, Dan, a Thrall and Phil, an average Karls' son. A strange duo that met through the unfortunate circumstances of a Saxon monastery. 

A beginning of a life long bond.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's good things and bad, and humans are devious creatures. Dan is to find out that even in the smallest community it's just the same.
> 
> Trigger Warning: Slight sexual harassment (Nothing explicit, just uncomfortable)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might be a bit boring, since the story has to pick up before all the things really begin. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless!!!

The summer days grew shorter, and then the darkness grew longer than the daylight as the snow had arrived, the whipping winds carrying the flakes down from the sky and harshly hitting the skin like the poking of the spruce needles hidden in the bed covers. 

Frozen fingers clutched the basket full of fish, possibly the last good catch of the cold season, before the nature was to be reborn with the arrival of the spring once again. 

He huffed when walking uphill, to reach his home, but the deep crease in his forehead smoothed when the door of the house opened and a dark-eyed boy appeared, soon rushing out and towards him to help with the basket. The two exchanged smiles, Dan's still fairly timid, but the fear had mostly dissipated when it was just the two of them. 

Phil was a gentle, caring master, and Dan understood it best after he'd seen what had come of some of the other Thralls of the village. He hadn't been beaten, he was patiently taught to understand the commands, and Phil treated him almost like a friend at times. He was fed, clothed and given his own corner in the house to rest every night. 

Dan felt lucky. 

As soon as the warmth enveloped them and the door fell shut behind, Phil dropped his heavy hides that had been covering his shoulders to maintain some warmth, and heavily he fell onto the covers of his sleeping bunk. 

''It's a cold winter this year,'' he spoke to what felt like nobody, but Dan still looked up from the fish he was sorting for cleaning. His dark eyes showed the thoughts whirling and trying to fully grasp what Phil had said, and if it was a command of any kind. The older of the two felt the gaze and caught his Thrall's eyes with his own, looking at him for a while to see if there would be any answer. He was met only with half-certain movement of head, Dan not daring to neither nod or shake it. 

''Cold,'' he sat up, wrapped hands around his shoulders and rubbed them like he was cold. Dan nodded, mimicking the word slowly. Phil nodded and Dan allowed a slightly bigger smile and pronounced another word, in what the young viking could only assume was the language of Saxons, and he tried to repeat it, his tongue twisting in the strange sound. Dan blinked at him, surprised by the attempt but Phil then fell back to his bed, laughing to himself ''Your language is strange,'' and indeed it felt strange, though it was well known to him that the knowledge of different tongues made pure trade much easier for merchants and was held in high regard.

A peace fell between the two, only the Thrall making sound during sorting. The quiet rustling was slowly lulling Phil to sleep and he felt the muscles relax and he drifted…. drifted…..

''Phil?'' a quiet voice, laced with an awkward edge found its' way through the dreams filled with bright shine on the trouts and dark fur of the bears hunting in the rocky rivers. He grunted and rolled over, only for his name to be spoken again and he felt a touch to his shoulder, shaking him lightly. ''Phil…. Food,'' the words pronounced strangely finally broke through to his consciousness and he finally opened his eyes, looking bleary at the other boy. The growing curls were covering the forehead, dark eyes were looking at Phil but effectively avoiding making eye contact. The wind-blown, chapped lips were reddened by excessive biting that Phil had noted the other boy to do frequently. 

And there was illumination of the firelight from behind him, painting his features soft.

''Food?'' Dan repeated, looking self-conscious about pronunciation, as if he was worried that he wasn't saying the right word and Phil couldn't understand him. 

''Beautiful...'' Phil muttered to himself, knowing that Dan had no chance of understanding. The other boy blinked at him, then stepped aside from the young viking when the latter began to sit up, a hand rubbed through the messy hair. The scent of prepared food filled his nostrils and, with another yawn, Phil smiled at Dan, motioning for the boy to get the food for himself before patting the space besides. A friendly invitation, and Dan’s eyes widened, surprised.

Phil barely paid attention to the movements of the other boy, but he felt the eyes on himself. Even when the covers of the bed moved with the weight of another person on them, the stare was evident and something about the knowledge of that dark gaze on him kept warmth, building up in his chest. 

There was hand on his shoulder again, to get his attention and he turned his head, only to end up with another face close to his, darkness in the eyes so alive and so inviting that Phil had to stare, the words not forming, but they weren't necessary. A hand with careful fingers threaded through his hair, shy and quick and it took a moment until the viking understood what had happened. ''Wild,'' Dan explained, putting hands up to his head, trying to explain Phil's bed hair. It was so warm, almost too warm, and Phil felt how his limbs filled with the liquid gold and fingertips tingled with the desire to reach out and just place his pale ones against the once sun-loved skin of the boy who he'd vowed to take care of. 

A loud collision against the wood, a fist knocking against it made the two jump, and a bowl of food spilled on the ground as Dan covered automatically. Phil's forehead creased but smoothed once again when he heard a voice ''Have you forgotten your promised help already?'' A comforting hand patted Dan's shoulder before Phil rose, crossing the room and opening door to an older man whose face was already sporting a thick beard-cover. ''You must think poorly of me to say that,'' he retorted easily, but his mind truly had been taken to distractions. A fondness like no other had found a corner in his spirit and he felt the need for a soul-search.

''Yule sacrifice is coming up; your father promised a goat,'' he was urged ''I will get you the goat, relax,'' he turned ''Dan!'' the Thrall looked up, gaze spooked, but he stood with the gathered remains of his food ''Get my friend here some ale,'' he motioned, then ''You,'' he pushed past the other man ''Sit down, I'll return shortly.''

The goat struggled, as if it knew its fate, but Phil's diligent fingers soon managed to tie the rope around its' neck, tugging lightly to bring it to the front gate to tie it there. He regarded the animal fondly for a moment ''Your life will give many years to come,'' the goat only looked around for any hay in the snow, failing to find any or to acknowledge his words. Phil had the belief, however, that somewhere within it understood his appreciation. 

''I hope you do it justi--'' his words came to a stop, eyes flashing red in anger when he walked inside and saw the scene in front of him. The other viking was grabbing at Dan, now seated on his lap, held there by the clearly more powerful male. ''What in the name of Thor and sirens are you doing?!'' there was a deep-seething growl in his tone and his hands curled into fists when the other viking ran his fingers over Dan's neck, making the boy whimper ''This one's so feminine, one could think it's a young woman,'' there was a laughter in the viking's throat and Phil felt his blood boil. The temptation to break one of their sacred rules was tempting, his knife suddenly burning through the hides of his clothing against his side. 

''Get your hands off him,'' he spoke and though his age was barely matching with the other man's, he felt the strength of order in the sounds. Brow arched, the other looked at him, releasing his hold on Dan, bringing the hands up in mock surrender before grabbing the ale again ''Don't worry about your little Thrall here, I've got a better woman waiting for me.'' 

''I need to rest,'' Phil announced sternly; the guest had outstayed his welcome. The force of Odin's angry lightnings was soaring his blood, the winds filling his lungs with the battle worthy cries. If they were to spill, he feared the Yule spirits may not be gracious to his father's household. ''Leave, the sacrifice awaits outside,'' thankfully, the other man finished his drink and stood to leave. With the door shut, Phil bolted it, turning to find where Dan had curled up in his sleep corner, eyes moist with tears, and it felt like he was looking at the same Thrall that had been brought that day once more. Fear was the only evident emotion in the thin form in front of him.

The angry lightnings had settled into heat in his chest, the lengths of arms soon wrapped around the thin shoulders and affection offered in the embrace. Chin on top of brown curls, the fingers tightened their grip, protective. He didn't know if Dan would understand, but his lips gave way to words anyway. 

A promise of protection for as long as they lived. 

A promise to the highest gods in Asgard and the lowest demons and demigods in Muspelheim and Hel.

If only his father had come home early from the latest raid. He would find Phil cradling Dan close to his body in their mutual restful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I am looking forward to posting next chapter asap!


End file.
